


On the Edge of a Knife

by laceymcbain



Series: Shadows & Stone: Smallville Stories [1]
Category: DCU, Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protectiveness, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-20
Updated: 2011-04-20
Packaged: 2017-10-18 10:17:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laceymcbain/pseuds/laceymcbain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mixed POV.  Lex's evening has scored particularly high on the Luthor Scale of Tragic Dates. When he confesses to Toby that he thinks he's destined to be alone, an eavesdropping Clark is determined to change his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Edge of a Knife

Clark bounced off the couch at the sound of the ringing phone. A quick glance at the clock showed him it was just after 10:30. His parents had already checked in from Metropolis, so it had to be Lex.

Clark chuckled to himself as he crossed to the kitchen and caught sight of the familiar number on the call display. He picked up the cordless phone and leaned casually back against the counter.

"Date over already, Lex? What happened to that famous Luthor charm?"

Clark couldn't help the note of glee that crept into his voice at the realization that Lex's date had ended early enough for them to still fit in a movie or two, as per their usual Friday night routine. And with his parents away for the weekend, he didn't have to worry about getting home late or even sleeping over at the mansion if he wanted. His Mom wouldn't care, but Dad still couldn't stand the idea of him spending too much time alone with Lex. Clark never bothered to tell them that the servants weren't there on Friday nights.

"Is this Clark?" The man's voice on the other end of the phone sounded uncertain. It definitely wasn't Lex.

"Yeah, who's this?" Clark said, all the muscles in his body tensing.

"Toby. We met once at--"

"Why are you calling from Lex's cell? Is Lex hurt?" Clark asked, clutching the phone a little tighter. He remembered Toby. He'd helped patch up Kyle Tippet when Clark had brought him to Lex's house with a gunshot wound. Clark still wasn't convinced that Toby was a licensed member of the medical profession. He was the kind of doctor who didn't ask too many questions. The kind whose preferred method of payment was a bottle of scotch and a paper bag of hundred dollar bills. The kind who made discreet house calls to billionaires' sons with a penchant for trouble.

"He'll live," Toby snorted. Clark heard a faint groan and what sounded a lot like "asshole" in the background.

"What happened? Is Lex okay? Where are you?" Clark asked, his questions tumbling awkwardly over his lips. He pushed away from the counter and strode across the kitchen.

"Whoa, kid. Don't panic. I'm at the mansion--"

"I'll be right there," Clark said and hung up the phone. He grabbed his jacket and super-speeded out the door.

***

"Toby?" Lex mumbled, turning his head to the side. It felt heavy, and even that small movement sent ripples of pain shivering down his body.

Toby was staring at the cell phone in his hand. He shrugged and flipped it shut, tossing it onto the bedside table. He sat lightly on the edge of the bed and went back to working on Lex's shoulder.

"You're one lucky son of a bitch, Lex," Toby said, applying a large cotton bandage over the stitches.

"This is lucky?" Lex asked slowly. Toby laughed.

"The painkillers should kick in soon. I gave you the good stuff."

"Nothing but the best for a Luthor," Lex mumbled under his breath, letting his eyes fall closed.

"I called your little friend to look after you. He should be here shortly."

"Who?" Lex opened his eyes, suddenly alert. His whole body hurt. He glanced down and immediately regretted it. The jagged wound across his stomach was still oozing blood from between the stitches.

"Number one on your speed dial, Lex."

"Clark?" Lex grimaced and took a deep breath. His skin felt like it was on fire. He struggled to sit up, but Toby pressed him gently back against the mattress.

"I remember a time when I was number one on your speed dial. After Excelsior. Back in the Club Zero days. I lost count how many times--"

"You shouldn't have called Clark. His parents already hate me."

"You need somebody to stay with you. I didn't spend the last half hour stitching up stab wounds to have you develop some kind of delayed trauma and kick off during the night."

"I have staff," Lex said gesturing vaguely with his left hand. "Clark doesn't need this."

"Maybe not, but you need someone. Someone you trust, not someone you pay." Toby looked at Lex's pale face carefully. "Or am I wrong about the kid?"

"No, I trust him." Lex smiled weakly. He could feel a heaviness in his limbs, the roaring pain turning to a dull ache. Toby's pills seemed to be kicking in at last.

"You should be dead, you know," Toby said, gently securing a cotton patch across Lex's stomach. The knife wound there ran deep and rough, a good eight inches across. The bandage darkened with small beads of red.

"Sorry to disappoint you." Lex could feel his own natural endorphins running high, coursing through his veins like electricity, connecting and healing the torn muscles and tissues in his body. His ability to heal quickly had been the only positive effect from the meteor shower that had left him bald thirteen years ago. As bad as he felt now, he knew that in a few days, he'd be fully recovered from something that would have likely killed any normal man.

"Shit, Lex, this is serious. You need to start seeing a better class of people. How many more women are going to take a stab at you--"

"Not funny, Toby."

"--before you wise up?"

"It wasn't the girl this time. It was the boyfriend."

"She brought her boyfriend on your date? Kinky."

"I assume it was a boyfriend. Our introduction consisted of 'Knife, meet stomach'."

Toby laughed and Lex stiffened. He thought he'd heard something in the hall--like the faintest rush of wind through the trees. Lex gently rubbed at the bridge of his nose as he considered the ineptness of his own analogy. More likely a ghost haunting the castle's dead stone towers.

"Gimme my shirt, Toby," Lex said, struggling to sit up again.

"Lex. For God's sake, stop screwing around or I'll knock you out myself."

"Clark will freak if he sees this."

"You're not putting a shirt on over those bandages tonight. I'll get you a blanket."

"He's a good kid, Toby. Innocent. He still thinks ..." Lex's voice trailed off uncertainly.

"What?" Toby said as he rooted around in the closet for an extra blanket.

"He thinks I'm a better man than I am," Lex said softly, leaning back against the pillows propped behind him. He let his eyes fall shut as he thought of the look of disappointment that would greet him when Clark got here. He didn't really want to see that look. It would be worse than the stab wounds. One more reason for Jonathan Kent to keep Clark away from him, and sometimes Lex didn't blame the man. Lex seemed to attract trouble even when he wasn't trying.

Toby pulled a pale lavender quilt from the top shelf of the closet and gently laid it over Lex.

"You like this kid, huh, Lex?" Toby scrutinized his typically inscrutable patient. The pain, the drugs, the date from hell seemed to be chipping away at Lex's usual mask of cool indifference. He could see a small smile touch Lex's lips.

"Yeah, Toby. Clark's ... different. Special. He's never seen me as a Luthor. Just Lex. Been a long time since anybody saw me that way. Or at all." The last words were so faint that Toby didn't think Lex knew he'd actually said them out loud.

Lex didn't open his eyes. "Did I ever tell you how we met?"

"No, you didn't." Toby put a hand lightly on Lex's forehead. He didn't even flinch. Toby took that as a sign that the drugs were starting to take effect. Lex had always been the most difficult, most fidgety patient he'd ever had. He was only still if he was unconscious or drugged, and his reaction to painkillers tended to cycle between manic and maudlin without much of a break.

Lex smiled more broadly, eyes still closed. A faint laugh spilled from his lips.

"I drove off a bridge and he saved me."

"Shit, Lex. Were you drunk or just trying to kill yourself?"

"Neither." Another low chuckle. "It was an accident. I thought I hit him with my car. I can still see his face at that moment. So young. The fear. God, I thought I was going to die and worse, I was taking somebody with me. And then I was waking up on the riverbank and he was still staring into my eyes. Same look of fear. And something else."

"What?"

"Destiny." Lex exhaled the word like a wisp of smoke. It hung on the air like the fading echo of a gong. Lex's breathing was slow and soft. Toby pulled the blanket up a little higher and let him drift towards sleep.

***

Clark stood outside the door to Lex's room, breathing hard. He'd known that he wouldn't be able to explain his presence on Lex's doorstep less than a minute after he'd hung up on Toby, but somehow that hadn't stopped him from super-speeding all the way to the castle, past the security gate, through the side door, and up the stairs to the master suite. It was only as he'd come to a stop in front of Lex's slightly ajar bedroom door and heard the steady cadence of Lex's voice that reason and good judgment had returned. Lex was talking. Lex was alive. Lex was safe.

Clark pulled himself together in the dark hallway and listened, feeling torn between pushing the door wide open--trying to ignore his father's voice whispering "You can't trust a Luthor, Clark"-- or waiting silently for the ten minutes to pass that it would've taken him to drive to the mansion.

Clark stared at the door, rewarded when the wood disappeared from his view to reveal two skeletons. One, whose size and shape were exceedingly familiar to him, was reclining on the bed in a posture that suggested neither relaxation nor ease. A second skeleton, bigger-framed with older bones, hovered nearby, one hand extended as the reclining figure struggled to sit up.

Clark could hear Lex's voice beyond the door. "Gimme my shirt, Toby."

"Lex. For God's sake, stop screwing around or I'll knock you out myself." Clark smiled in spite of himself. Lex wasn't an easy patient under any circumstances.

"Clark will freak if he sees this."

Clark's breath caught in his throat as he forced himself to let his x-ray vision fade away from the jagged tears he had identified in Lex's flesh. He took a deep steadying breath, glanced briefly at his watch, and tried to will himself to find the patience he would need to remain on his side of the door--mere feet away from a Lex who was obviously hurt and in need of comfort--for ten more minutes. He should never have cancelled their Friday night plans. All he'd ended up doing was putting his six foot four frame to work as the designated decoration hanger for the Spring Fling's dance committee and listening to Lana whine about Whitney. He didn't even know why he'd said 'yes' except that he didn't seem to be able to deny Lana anything. He'd loved her since first grade, but he was starting to realize that what he'd felt when he was a boy wasn't the same as what he wanted now that he was a man. Or almost a man. And what he wanted wasn't Lana.

Clark had felt bad about breaking his plans with Lex to help out Lana, but Lex had brushed it off, loudly bemoaning his abandonment and complaining that there were no women in Smallville interesting enough to rate giving up his weekly evening with Clark.

Clark remembered blushing and giving Lex a light punch on the arm, but secretly he'd been pleased. He looked up to Lex. Admired him. He still considered himself lucky that Lex gave him open access to his life when he kept everyone else, including his own father, at arm's length. Lex considered him a friend and that meant more to Clark than anything, knowing that Lex didn't toss that term out lightly.

Truth be told, he cherished those Friday nights with Lex--just the two of them alone in the castle. Lex always gave the staff the night off and the two of them would rummage through the kitchen for snacks when they didn't order pizza. It was an adventure--as much for Lex as for Clark--since he often didn't seem to know what his own kitchen held. One night they'd discovered containers of caviar chilling in the fridge, and Lex had proceeded to attempt to provide some culture to Clark's decidedly rural palate, or so Lex had said. His stomach had strongly rebelled at the idea of eating fish eggs--even more so when Lex told him what the various types of caviar cost. Lex had just sat on the stainless steel counter and laughed at the horrified look on Clark's face as he realized that the first mouthful that he'd spit out had probably cost more than the new fuel tank his Dad had scrimped to buy. And Lex's laughter wasn't mean or hurtful or meant to make him feel their differences. It was the most honest sound he'd ever heard, like clear mountain water rushing down from a glacial peak.

On Friday nights, Lex would change into jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt--a very expensive t-shirt made of something soft that draped elegantly over his shoulders and clung just a little at his hips. It was always charcoal or black or light purple or blue. The colours of a bruise. As if Lex were wearing every hurt on the outside of his body, and suddenly they were a lot closer in age. A lot closer to just being Clark and Lex. Just closer. Clark pushed the thought away. He didn't think he was supposed to notice these things. About Lex. But he did. He always did.

Despite his protests, Lex hadn't seemed to have any difficulty finding a date. Granted, in retrospect, it looked like a disaster of Luthor-like proportions, but Clark had still felt a tiny stab of something--something sharp and biting that seemed a lot like jealousy, but couldn't be--when Lex had replaced him so easily. Hadn't he done the same thing to Lex with Lana? Clark felt his stomach quiver at his own stupidity.

Now Lex had been hurt and Clark hadn't been around to stop it. He hadn't even known. Clark knew that if he'd just stuck to their usual routine--a commitment that Lex had never, ever broken in spite of meetings and galas and front row seats at operas and sporting events--he wouldn't be feeling like this was all his fault. With guilt burrowing under his skin like a tick, Clark placed a broad hand gently against the door frame, closed his eyes, and listened.

***

"Toby?" Lex stirred under the quilt.

"Thought you were falling asleep."

"Just thinking." Lex opened his eyes to glance at the antique clock on the bedside table. "Clark should be here soon. You can take off."

"I'll just wait til he gets here, I think," Toby said giving Lex a pointed look.

"Afraid you won't get paid?"

Toby snorted derisively. "I know you, Lex. If I leave, you'll convince Clark it's a scratch and send him home. Then you'll decide that you just have to check your damn computer, you'll stumble your way down to your office where you'll undoubtedly do something stupid--"

"Who me?"

"--like mixing Scotch and painkillers or accidentally tearing out your stitches, and I'll end up hightailing it back here because your butler has found you making a mess of the Persian rug."

"Nice to know you have such utter faith in me, Toby." Lex could almost have sworn he heard a muffled snicker from the hallway. He shook his head. Must be the pills. Too soon for Clark to be here yet, even if he drove like Lex.

"I've known you since your Dad dragged you kicking and screaming through the doors of Excelsior Prep, Lex. The fact that I still have any faith in you at all is remarkable. And not something to be taken for granted," Toby said with a deliberate glance. The left corner of Lex's smile inched up minutely, a reluctant acknowledgement.

Toby stood and walked over to the window. "Tell me something, though."

Lex waited in silence. Toby was like the slightly off-balance uncle that livened up every family function by drinking too much, leering too openly, and generally insulting the relatives that no one liked but everyone tried to appease. And Toby had never been on his father's payroll--not officially anyway--or at least he'd always seemed to have Lex's best interests at heart no matter who was paying the bill. He'd kept his secrets at Excelsior and after. Lex wouldn't begrudge him a few answers now.

"Why were you entertaining a woman whose entire intellectual repertoire could have fit comfortably in a peanut shell and who, by the sounds of it, was more upset that you'd gotten blood on her Prada pumps than by the fact that her boyfriend tried to gut you like a fish?"

Lex involuntarily winced and put a hand to the bandage on his stomach.

"Thanks for that image. I feel so much better now. Have you ever considered at least pretending to have a professional bedside manner?"

"Lex, you're filthy rich, young, and reasonably attractive--"

"Reasonably?"

"--or so I've been told--"

" _Reasonably_?" Lex repeated a little more vehemently. He might not have ever considered himself Prince Charming material, but he was a damn sight better than "reasonably attractive" even at his worst, which he had to admit he was awfully close to right now.

"--so why aren't you happy?"

"I'm a Luthor. We don't do happy."

The glib response had an edge of bitterness that Lex didn't even try to hide. He'd been expecting a different question--actually, any one of a number of different questions for which he'd mentally gathered an equal number of appropriately sarcastic responses. The concept of happiness hadn't entered into any of them Now he sat feeling slightly stunned, his words tasting like ashes on his tongue, and wondering how a man who only ever saw him at his worst seemed to instinctively know he could do better despite having seen evidence to the contrary.

"Why is it so damn hard for you to accept that there might actually be someone out there for you? An equal. Not another pretty face or a quick fuck or someone who has information or a company for sale. Someone who would give a damn about you. Not your name or your money or your company. Just you. Just Lex."

"Well, if you ever meet that person, Toby, be sure to send them to me because my experience has taught me that everyone wants something. Some of us just aren't meant to be happy. Maybe some of us are meant to be alone."

Steeling himself against the tightness in his chest that suddenly felt more like sadness than pain, Lex settled down more firmly among the pillows, tugged the quilt up higher, and closed his eyes with all the finality of a dismissal.

"I think you've been of sufficient help for tonight, Toby. If you don't mind, I'm going to try for some sleep."

Toby opened his mouth to respond, saw Lex's lower lip caught firmly in his teeth, cheeks flushed pink from the sting of anger or honesty. He wasn't sure which. Toby was reminded with startling clarity that Lex was only twenty-three. Not that much older than a normal high school kid. Maybe not so different from Clark after all.

Toby closed his mouth, grabbed his bag and headed towards the doorway. "I'll wait for Clark downstairs."

Toby paused just short of the bedroom door. "For what it's worth, Lex, I never thought you'd give in to Lionel's game."

He noticed the muscle in Lex's jaw clench reflexively. The time to tread carefully had long since leapt to its death from the castle window. Being brutally honest with Lex was about as appealing as the thought of running through a minefield naked, but sometimes the boy needed a reminder that he wasn't just his father's son.

"Since your mother died, he's done everything he could to isolate you, to show you the corruptibility of your friends, the infidelity of your lovers, all in the name of making you a stronger man. He wants you to be alone, Lex. He wants you to have no one to turn to ... except him. If you accept a life without real friendship, without real love ... Lionel wins. I think you deserve better than that."

Toby pushed open the door and stepped out into the empty hallway.

***

Clark whirled away from the opening door and super-speeded down the stairs. The rapid pounding of his heart was more from anxiety than exertion. He'd felt guilty standing in the hallway listening to what was obviously not the kind of conversation that Lex had with just anyone. He'd had no idea that Toby had known Lex since boyhood. Sometimes he forgot that Lex had ever been a boy. It was hard to imagine him as anything less than confident and completely comfortable in his own skin.

Yet he hadn't been able to turn away. Even as his watch edged past the ten minute mark, he'd found himself holding his breath. He'd never realized that Lex might be lonely. Or that it was difficult for him to find someone who could be his equal in a relationship. Clark's face flared red as he grasped for the first time how stupid he had been to think that Lex could ever see him as an equal. He was a 17-year-old farm kid who'd never been out of Kansas. What had he been thinking? That a billionaire businessman and a teenage alien might actually have a destiny together? Clark almost laughed at the absurdity of the idea that he'd been harbouring since they'd met.

Lex talked about destiny with such conviction that it was easy to believe. He'd heard Lex talk about him to Toby. He'd called him special, different. Clark felt another pang as he realized just how right Lex was and how wrong it felt to keep lying to him about it. Lex had wanted to protect Clark from seeing him hurt--that was more than just being polite. Lex cared about him, about his feelings. Clark didn't think Lex would say it if he didn't mean it--especially to someone like Toby, who would probably call him on it as he had done with Lex's dat--and about Lionel. Clark didn't think he'd heard anyone talk to Lex like that before. It was inspiring ... and more than a little terrifying.

Clark could hear Toby's footsteps on the stairs. He hoped the flushed colour in his cheeks would suggest haste rather than guilt. He put a hand on the banister and looked up expectantly as Toby appeared on the landing above.

Toby rounded the corner and saw the dark-haired young man at the bottom of the stairs. Just as he remembered him. All long legs and denim, windblown hair and fierce devotion.

"There you are, Clark," Toby said as he continued to descend.

"I came as soon as I could. Is Lex okay?" Toby noted that Clark's face was flushed, anxious. He didn't look like he knew what to do with his hands, and he appeared to have seized the edge of the banister in some type of death grip. Well, yes, Lex did have that effect on people. Quite frequently, Lex made people want to wrap their hands around his neck with similar ferocity. Toby smiled and pushed the thought aside.

"He's a pain in the ass," Toby said, striding past Clark to push open the door to Lex's study. He walked across the room to the crystal decanter and quickly poured himself two fingers of Scotch, which he downed in a fluid motion. Thank God that Lex had exquisite taste in Scotch. He felt the familiar burn sliding down his throat.

"Toby?" Clark trailed awkwardly behind him.

"He's fine. Stubborn and stupid, but it'll take a better man than me to cure him of that. As for the rest, he heals fast."

"What happened to his date?"

"After her boyfriend tried to carve his initials on Lex's stomach--"

Toby saw the boy flinch.

"--the two of them tried to leave. Lex's security staff was dealing with them when I arrived."

"But how did his staff know something was wrong? Usually he sends everybody home on Friday nights 'cause it's just ... um ..."

"Just what?" Toby looked at the boy curiously. His face reddened and Toby caught a flicker of bright green dipping behind long lashes. Yes, Lex had always had a soft spot for tall, dark, and handsome. This one didn't seem nearly as brooding as Bruce Wayne, thank goodness. Of course, Toby doubted very much that there was anyone who could compete with Bruce in that arena.

Toby watched as Clark stammered through his answer. "Well, usually, the two of us get together to watch movies or play pool. Lex always gives the staff the night off. It's sort of tradition."

Toby smirked and poured himself another drink. If the truth of his words weren't written all over Clark's face, Toby would have laughed out loud at the thought of Lex Luthor spending his nights at home watching movies and playing pool. Apparently, the company of Kansas farm boys had been good for Lex.

"But he's never needed the staff here before. He's never been in any danger with me," Clark added vehemently, as if he would throw himself between Lex and anyone who might want to hurt him. The look on Clark's face was so ferociously genuine that Toby believed without a doubt that Clark could keep Lex safe--maybe even from himself. No wonder Lex liked this kid. Adoration like that was hard to find.

Toby nodded. "There's a panic button in the study. It alerts security--night off or not--and sends an automatic text-message to me. Lex would never use it if it weren't an absolute emergency. He's never had to before."

"He never told me," Clark said with an undisguised tone of hurt.

"He probably didn't want you to worry. There's one at the penthouse in Metropolis too." Toby gave Clark an appraising look. The teenager looked upset that Lex had kept something as important as security measures from him. Well, Toby thought, maybe it came with saving Lex's life the first time. The kid obviously felt some kind of responsibility toward Lex. God knows that there was something about Lex that cried out to be saved. Bruce Wayne had certainly been evidence of that at Excelsior. Of course, there was also something about Lex that seemed to attract homicidal maniacs and freaks, so perhaps men like Bruce--although he occasionally warranted placement in the freaks and maniacs category as well--and Clark were the universe's way of keeping things in balance.

Or perhaps it was something else. Toby considered the young man in front of him. He'd seen a lot of good-looking young men during his tenure at Excelsior, but Clark would have put most of them to shame. Despite the well-worn jeans and the farm-fresh flannel, he exuded strength that went beyond the physical. Toby noted the angular cheekbones, the full broad lips, signs that would've denoted nobility in ages past. And despite a body that begged to be taken advantage of- -if Toby swung that way, which he didn't, but he could still appreciate what Lex might see in him- -Clark seemed innocent, wholesome, almost naive.

Yet the kid was certainly no pushover. The green eyes that met his stare didn't shy away, openly challenging Toby to try, just try, to keep him away from Lex. In that moment, Toby understood how deep the attraction might go, how strong a soul would have to be to love Lex without being consumed by him. He understood instinctively that Lex had quite possibly found his equal in the most unlikely of places.

Toby took another drink and smiled. No wonder Lex hadn't been able to find the right woman. He'd already found the right man and was doing something decidedly un-Luthor-like. He was trying to do the right thing and act as if Clark's friendship was enough. He was trying to protect the boy, in spite of the fact that Clark was clearly struggling with his own feelings for Lex, friendship or otherwise.

Toby snorted. "Apparently Destiny's a little pissed that he's fucking with her plan," he said mainly to himself.

"Pardon?"

Toby waved a hand loosely in the air as if to brush away his last statement. He watched Clark rock awkwardly from one foot to another and glance upstairs anxiously. Any minute the boy was going to bolt, his need to check on Lex so clear that it was almost palpable.

"Is there anything I need to know? Before I go on up?" Clark's voice had gained confidence. Toby nodded. Apparently the boy was tired of waiting, his country manners starting to crumble beneath worry and concern--and maybe something infinitely stronger. Destiny. Love.

"I won't keep you from him much longer. Just a few things, Clark." Toby smiled and turned to face Clark with new appreciation. Yes. Maybe happiness was closer than Lex thought.

***

Lex stared at the ceiling of his room. Oh, yeah--Toby had definitely given him the good stuff. The ache in his shoulder had almost disappeared and the burning agony that had been his stomach was rapidly becoming a memory. His face felt flushed and warm, more like he'd just had a glass of good brandy than been on the wrong end of a knife fight. Somewhere in the back of his head, the Sharks and the Jets began circling to finger-snapping musical numbers and men in tight black chinos were beginning to sway through his mind. He thought he heard humming, then realized it was coming from him.

"'When you're a Jet, you're a Jet all the way'," Lex mouthed and snapped his fingers. He fought down the urge to giggle and tried to keep the lyrics for "I Feel Pretty" from poking at his brain.

He briefly considered celebrating his health with an impromptu dance number, but thought it would be unmanly to be found face down on his bedroom floor. He vaguely remembered this feeling that he could do anything--and laughed at the realization that scenes from musicals seemed to be high on his to-do list. He suspected the feeling was at best an illusion of grand proportions; at worst, it was Destiny laughing her ass off again. He suspected it was the latter.

He'd had the same feeling after his mother died. After Toby and Bruce had pulled him down from one of the towers at Excelsior and he'd spent the night blissfully high and unrepentant under the overbearing stare of the dark-eyed youth who threatened to throw him through the nearest window if he ever did that again. Toby had dragged him through the halls by his collar and told him that suicide was for cowards. He'd slapped him hard when he'd said he didn't give a shit about living--slapped him, then hugged him fiercely before leaving him with Bruce. Lex remembered falling asleep wondering at the strangeness that passed for love in his life.

This time, Bruce wasn't here. Probably for the best, since he'd kick Lex's ass from here to Gotham for leaving himself unprotected, would patiently explain (again) what he perceived to be an oh-so-simple manoeuvre to thwart any knife-wielding attacker, and then would withdraw back into the darkness that flowed around him like a cape. Lex didn't think he could handle Bruce's concern transfigured into anger--or worse, silence. Bruce could be relentlessly cold and hard, a twist of wrought iron that never revealed the raging inferno that had forged it. Lex would much rather have Clark's sunshine and warmth--he already had more than enough of his own darkness. He needed something else.

He wondered if Clark was here yet, if he'd had to leave Lana Lang to come to him. Lex suddenly snorted.

"Leave Lana Lang," he chuckled to himself. "Stop the Presses! Long-Legged Lanky Looker Leaves Lana Lang for Lex Luthor! Lucky Lex! Alliterative Lex. Oh yeah, this is the good stuff, alright."

He pulled the quilt a little closer and closed his eyes again

"Lavender. Lovely." A smile curled around his lips. "'Oh, so pretty, and witty and ...'"

***

Lex turned at the slight sound of the door being pushed open. He surveyed the tall dark-haired teenager that stepped into the room. Clark's brows immediately furrowed, eyes narrowing as if they could look through the material covering Lex's body and assess the damage beneath. Lex thought he recognized fear and helplessness and sadness in those fierce eyes and simply waited for Clark to assure himself that Lex was still among the living.

"Clark, I'm fine." Some of the adrenaline had worn off, and he felt surprisingly close to normal. Sore and tired, but more like himself.

The green eyes flickered towards Lex, slightly less intense, no less worried.

"No more Friday night dates for you, Lex," Clark said softly. "Unless they're with me."

Lex quirked an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Why, Clark, I didn't know you cared."

"Bull." Clark moved across the room to stand by Lex's bed. His hands were clenched loosely at his sides as if he were trying to keep from laying hands on Lex just to make certain he was real. Lex found the thought immeasurably comforting. He wondered if he could still be more than a bit high on painkillers.

"How do you feel?"

"Like someone tried to fillet me." Clark flinched, and Lex softened his tone. "But it's not that bad now. Toby gave me the good drugs. I can hardly feel anything."

Clark didn't look convinced. Lex patted the side of the bed gently and tried to look as relaxed as if they were having a conversation about the Metropolis Sharks' chances in the playoffs. Hm, the Sharks and the Jets began circling in the back of his mind again. Somewhere in the night Natalie Wood was singing her heart out and dark-haired men were dancing with knives.

"Lex? Are you humming?" If possible, Clark looked more worried than before. The Sharks and the Jets pirouetted into the darkness.

"Of course not." Lex hoped against hope that Clark's public education had never introduced him to the toe-tapping musical sounds of West Side Story.

A large hand touched his forehead. Lex closed his eyes and leaned forward into the pleasant heat of it.

"Clark, sit down. You're hovering like a vulture. I can assure you I'm not about to die."

"Yeah, well, I think I'll just stick around and make sure. If you don't mind."

"I don't mind. In fact, I was led to believe that I didn't have a choice in the matter." Lex cocked his head to the side. "I take it you talked to Toby."

"Yeah, he gave me instructions for changing the bandages. As for keeping you in line, he suggested a whip and a chair, but I told him I didn't think you were up for bondage games quite yet."

Lex laughed, sitting up, then instantly regretted it. "Oh, shit, that hurts," he said, suddenly breathless. The quilt slipped off his shoulders, baring his bandages. He felt Clark's warm hand on his arm, another on his shoulder holding him until the spasm of pain passed.

"Sorry."

"No, it was worth it to hear Clark Kent make a bondage joke. Highlight of my evening so far."

"Your evening really sucked, Lex."

"You think?"

"On the Luthor Scale of Tragic Dates, I'd have to place it solidly between the woman who threw up in your new Ferrari and the meteor mutant who decided you'd make beautiful babies together."

Lex started laughing again and managed to sputter: "Remind me never to tell you anything embarrassing again."

"Where's the fun in that?" Clark said with a slight smile that faded to concern as he realized how many stitches Lex's bandages were covering.

"Just out of curiosity, where does Desiree fit on that scale?"

"Oh, I started a whole other list. Luthor's Scale of Homicidal Wives. Luckily there's just been the one so far."

Another wave of laughter struck Lex. He clutched at his aching stomach as his body rebelled against the movement.

"So far," he gasped.

"Okay, no more laughing, Lex. We don't want you to bust a gut. Literally."

Clark helped settle him back against the pillows. His fingers brushed lightly over the bandage at Lex's shoulder.

Clark's voice was low and serious. "Does it hurt?"

"Not really." Lex reached out and put a hand gently over Clark's fingers and looked intently into his eyes trying to convey everything he felt. "I'm fine." He hoped his tone was reassuring.

"Yeah, that's why you're showing as much bandage as skin, right?" Clark could see the dark brown stains where blood had seeped through the cotton in spots. His left hand rested cautiously against Lex's stomach.

"You can give me the personal safety lecture tomorrow, Clark."

Clark frowned, and Lex looked at him intensely as he continued. "You can't be here to save me all the time. It's not your responsibility. I was on a date for God's sake. That used to be a relatively safe activity--well, before I moved to Smallville, anyway," Lex said with a note of frustration.

He was going to have to seriously reconsider this whole dating thing. So far his track record with women was about as pockmarked as Smallville after the infamous meteor shower. He would've been a lot happier spending Friday night the way he normally did, but Clark had cancelled because Lana had asked for his help, and who was he to stand in the way of young, if somewhat oblivious, love. He certainly wasn't going to sit at home alone. He was Lex Luthor. He could have any woman he wanted. It wasn't his fault that those women typically had designs on his money or his body--usually his cold, lifeless body.

"Lonely Lex Luthor," Lex whispered, his eyelids falling closed.

"Uh, Lex?"

Clark's soft voice cut through his thoughts, and Lex came to the conclusion that he'd been drifting. Clark was still sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him intently. Lex had the feeling that he'd said something aloud, but he couldn't remember what. His hand was still resting where he'd placed it over Clark's, fingers gently massaging the warm flesh. Lex fought the urge to snatch his hand away when he realized what he'd been doing, apparently without even thinking about it. Not thinking could get him in serious trouble.

"Lex? I don't think it's a good sign when you're talking about yourself in the third person," Clark said, making no move to separate his hand from Lex's. His other hand was a comfortable warm weight against Lex's bare abdomen.

"Sorry, Clark," Lex said softly, and started to move his hand. Clark caught it gently and shook his head almost imperceptibly before letting Lex draw back slowly.

"You should really try to get some sleep. Do you want me to help you get undressed?" Lex felt his throat catch at the idea of Clark's large hands gently slipping him out of his clothes. He shuttered his eyes against the image. What the hell was in those pills Toby had given him?

"I think I'll just stay like this," Lex replied, sliding down into the pillows. "And you really don't have to--"

"If you're going to tell me I don't have to stay, you may as well save your breath. I'm not leaving. Mom and Dad are in Metropolis, so there's no one at home to worry." Lex felt the soft edge of the blanket pulled up around his bare shoulders. The tenderness apparent in the gesture made him feel something that he hadn't felt in a very long time. Safe. Loved. This was too much. This was ... dangerous.

"Well, at least tell me you won't sit and stare at me all night," Lex said brusquely, trying to push down the emotions that Clark's simple gesture threatened to unleash. Bruce used to hover over him like that in their dorm room when he'd been stupid, reckless--watched over him like a particularly savage raven protecting its young. It had been as pleasing as it was disconcerting, but this was better. This was Clark. The difference between day and night.

"No, I'll take the other room. And I'll leave the door open, so if you need anything ..."

"I'll yell. Promise," Lex lied in what he hoped was a convincing tone, knowing that he would chew off his own leg before he would wake Clark up to babysit him. Clark clicked off the light switch.

"Yeah, right, Lex. You'd probably chew off one of your own limbs first. But I'll be here just in case." Lex glared at Clark's back as he ambled into the next room. There was no way that Clark knew him that well. No way.

"Oh, Lex?" Clark stuck his head back through the open door.

"Yeah?"

"Toby told me I was supposed to tell you two things, although I'm not sure why."

Lex's eyes narrowed slightly. Toby had been entirely too straight-forward with him tonight and had known him far too long. This could be dangerous.

"What?"

"He said to tell you that he was sending me to you--which I think is pretty obvious considering that I'm here and all, but that's what he said--"

Lex felt the ghost of a smile flit across his face as his own words came back to him. "Did he suggest that you tell me what you want from me?" So dangerous--like balancing on the edge of a knife.

"How'd you know?"

"I moonlight for the Psychic Friends Network. Well?" Answer the question, Clark. Tell me what you want. The Sharks and the Jets were circling again, a slow dance--rhythm like a heartbeat-- threatening to speed up at any moment, steps getting more complicated, more intertwined by the moment.

Clark paused in the darkness. Lex could feel the tension--could almost see Clark's instincts ricocheting between flight and ... whatever it was they were doing. It shouldn't matter so much what Clark's answer was. It shouldn't matter at all.

"I don't want anything, Lex. Just you. Just to be your ... friend. Just for you to let me be ... here. Close. Okay?" Clark's voice was sincere--as pure as holy water, and the thoughts it was inspiring were anything but pure. Jesus, he was going to hell, but apparently he'd be dancing through the gates.

Lex fought to keep a quiver out of his voice. "You want Lex Luthor, huh?" He hoped his voice suggested a joke. Shared humour. The kind of thing that a friend would say.

"No." For a terrible infinite moment the word hung in the air, fragile as a soap bubble. Clark's voice surged ahead. "Just Lex."

Lex let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Okay, Clark. G'night."

"Night, Lex."

Lex heard Clark's slow footsteps move into the other room, and resisted the urge to call him back, beg him to stay close. Closer. For the second time that night, he felt like he'd been split wide open, but this he could live with. This he could endure. For that smile, that soft voice, the possibility that those warm hands would touch him again, he could survive anything.

Lex closed his eyes and let sleep overtake him.

***

Clark walked softly into the darkness of the adjoining room. It was a simple space, decorated in the dark blues and greys that Lex preferred. It was only slightly smaller than Lex's master suite and Clark wished for the more intimate spaces of the farmhouse, if only because he would be closer to Lex. He felt too far away even though Lex was right next door.

Clark moved through the semi-darkness, stripping out of his jeans and shirt. He threw back the cover on the bed and slipped beneath the feathery warmth in nothing but his boxers. The sheets felt cool against his bare skin. He looked longingly back at the half-open door, eyes flashing to x-ray before he could control it. He saw Lex settled and apparently breathing easily. Lex was exhausted, hurt. So unbelievably strong and yet so fragile--like a human spider web. He never knew if Lex was going to snap back from his encounters with meteor freaks or if one day he would just break and be gone. The thought made his chest ache, as though his lungs were stripped of air.

Lex looked so pale, and Clark could tell that the wounds had taken a lot of stitches to close. He wanted to touch Lex, assure himself that he was alive. He'd had to stop himself from running his hands over his skin--settled for a friendly hand on the shoulder, a light touch to the forehead. The acceptable places that a guy could touch another guy. A friend could touch another friend.

Clark let out a breath, but the ache in his chest was still there. He was going to have to do something about this, and soon. He'd tried to deny it for a long time, tried to pretend that the feelings weren't there, that it was all fun and games and friendship. A little bit of harmless flirting because that was just Lex. He couldn't help himself. He flirted with anything that moved, and quite a few things that didn't. Clark had almost convinced himself that the way Lex looked at him was just the way Lex looked at everyone.

Except that it wasn't. It was like Lex had x-ray vision that was ten times stronger than Clark's-- like he was stripping away everything that Clark hid from the world behind flannel and innocent smiles and words that never quite offered an explanation. It was like Lex knew everything-- _everything_ \--already, but he wanted more. Clark didn't think that he would refuse Lex anything, let alone everything. He didn't know if he _could_ refuse, and he knew--for certain, the way he knew that he didn't want Lana--that he didn't want to refuse anymore.

Maybe that's what Lex had been waiting for because in spite of the bad dates and the even worse marriage, Lex had clearly been waiting for him to _do_ something, to say something. Clark lay there and thought of all the times Lex had given him a chance to say something. The times he'd offered to take his secrets off his hands, and if Clark was honest, he knew that Lex understood-- really understood what he was offering and what it meant.

Lex had stood by the split rail fence at the farm and said, _"You're the closest I've had to a real friend my whole life. You don't have to hide anything from me."_ Clark had stood there and offered to let Lex hit him with the hammer because aside from having appalling taste in women, Lex had the worst timing of anyone on the planet. He could've hit Clark, then--could've hurt him badly. Clark had thought that he hadn't done it because Clark had convinced him that he was wrong.

_"Clark, I just want the truth."_

He realized now that Lex wouldn't have ever done it, wouldn't have hit him, tested him, because that wasn't who Lex was. Yes, he was curious and obsessive and driven. Yes, he desperately wanted to know Clark's secrets--but it was because of _Clark_ , not because of the secrets. He wanted to know Clark--whatever that meant--and he would wait until Clark was ready to believe in him, to trust him with himself.

Clark didn't know if he wanted to see how much longer Lex would wait. Maybe they'd both waited long enough.

***

Lex wasn't sure when he realized that he was no longer alone in the room, but the certainty of that fact came to him while his eyes were still closed and his breathing still steady. He wasn't alone, but he knew there was nothing to fear from the man sitting beside him in the darkness.

"Clark?"

Lex felt the flutter of fingers against his shoulders. He opened his eyes.

"I didn't mean to wake you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay." Clark's voice was soft. Lex realized Clark was kneeling beside the bed, moonlight shining softly against his bare chest, hands lightly stroking Lex's arms.

"Takes more than that to kill me," Lex whispered, trying to keep his voice light. He saw Clark's broad frame stiffen in the dark, felt the fingers dig into his flesh ever so slightly.

"Is that what you're trying to do? Get yourself killed?" Clark's voice was dark and thin, like the sliver of shadow beneath a closed door. Lex could feel green eyes staring at him. He tried hard to think of an answer that wouldn't make Clark leave.

"You scared me, Lex. You scared me the first day I met you ... when you--when you hit me with your car. You weren't breathing, dammit. And the day you walked into the plant and traded yourself for us. You're not bulletproof, Lex. You nearly got killed. And a hundred times since then."

"Clark, you don't have to tell--" Lex's mind was racing to keep up with what Clark was trying to tell him. What he was telling him.

"Yes, I do." No hesitation. Just a voice full of trust. "Do you know what it would do to me if you weren't here?"

Lex struggled for an appropriate response. This was what he had always wanted. Pushed for. Fought for. Clark without his secrets. All of Clark. Naked. Exposed.

"Do you know what my life would be like without you?"

"No," Lex breathed hoarsely, and it wasn't a lie.

Clark leaned closer, fingers ghosting across his cheek. Lex's shiver had nothing to do with being cold and everything to do with Clark. He could feel Clark's breath on his face, Clark's lips forming words that slid over his skin like fingers. _Do you know?_

"I'd be dead."

Lex closed his eyes as he felt those words, heavy as water, press down on him. An echo from a cold riverbank that seemed so long ago. Clark would die without him. You hit me with your car. Without him. Not literally, not physically, but something in him would die. Something exquisite and rare and so tragically right.

_Do you know?_

Maybe it was the moonlight or the drugs or the way Clark's voice caressed him like leather. Maybe this was some beautiful, terrible dream that his subconscious had created to taunt him, but Lex felt everything that he'd been denying about Clark rise to the surface like a tumultuous wave.

_Do you know?_

Clark's dark hair pressed softly against his chest, head bent in the act of confession, seeking absolution that only Lex could give. Lex felt warm lips pressed against him, so soft they were no more than a whisper in the dark, but so unmistakably Clark. It was like being kissed by summer, wild and green and full of promise.

_Do you know?_

Yes. He knew everything he needed to know and he'd known it the moment he'd laid eyes on Clark. Lex stopped trying to be strong, to be right, to be brave.

"I know, Clark. I've always known."

 _God forgive me_ , Lex thought, and buried his hands in Clark's hair, raised his head and pulled him hard against his mouth. Seized his lips with all the strength and love he had ever felt. He let his mouth say what he could never seem to find the words for, let his tongue be the bridge that carried them closer and closer to the crash and ache of madness.

Clark responded as if he were starving. Hungry and desperate and wanton, his lips wet and warm, tongue darting in and out like a hummingbird's dance, his breathing a ragged tango pounding in his chest. Lex was being covered with kisses and touches from hands as broad and warm as the sun, and there was nothing here--no reason, no pretense, no motive--beyond love and friendship and the need to tell, and tell, and tell again the truth of who they both were with bodies that wouldn't, couldn't lie. Not anymore. With lips that were pure as long as they were silent. With hearts that raced against each other, drowned out the darkness, and gathered together in a raging staccato.

Lex felt himself lifted as carefully, as gently, as if he were made of air. Trembling hands undid each clasp and button, slid them away from his skin which glowed in the watchful moonlight. Slid dark fabric over pale hips, cock hard and weeping with anticipation. And Lex understood terror-- that someone could mean this much, could love this much--but he was too weak to warn Clark away, to tell him to run, to leave, before his shadows covered them both.

"I love you, Lex," a voice whispered from above.

Clark knelt between his spread legs, and the hands on his thighs were the wings of angels beating before the fall.

"I trust you. With everything."

Lex felt the slow lick of a tongue that started below the bandage and swept slowly, deliberately down, burning his skin like a conquered town.

"I trust you with every secret I have."

There were warm hands on Lex's legs, pushing him apart, massaging, kneading. There was reverence in those touches that spoke of respect and amazement and a longing that was neither young nor immature.

"You hit me with your car. I ripped the roof off and pulled you out."

A slow, not-quite-steady hand grasped Lex's cock and he felt his back arch, didn't care that his shoulder was aching or that his stomach was prickling with faint pain. This was Clark.

"Clark."

"It's never been adrenaline or luck."

Touching him. Wanting him. Loving him, and Lex let his body return every emotion because if they had nothing else, they would have tonight and the part of him that couldn't believe in forever was willing to let him have this. These hands on him.

"You shot me in that garage. The bullets left only bruises."

Lex's breath caught in his throat, heart thumping like a caged animal. His hands reaching to tangle in that dark beautiful hair. Clark kissing his fingers. Telling him to let go. Telling him to hold on.

"Only the meteors can hurt me. Only them."

Hands rubbing him up and down with firm, even strokes, tongue teasing the tip of his swollen cock with gentle licks.

"And possibly you."

Heard the smile in Clark's voice, the tiniest quiver of fear behind it, and Lex touched him. He touched him like a lover, a friend, caressed him like he wasn't King Midas who would destroy all he touched, and he whispered something he'd rarely said in bed and meant.

"I love you."

Lex knew everything was changing. He knew that the world hung in the balance like a silver coin that could tip the scale of his life. Both their lives. The lives of all the world. Whether there would be sunflowers brightening the fields or blood raining down from heaven. The words spilled across the night like stars and he felt as though he were singing, although it was only a whisper and the whole of night held its breath.

"I've always loved you, Clark."

Then there were lips encircling his cock, warm lips sliding, sliding, until he was slipping into a space that was everything and nothing he had every dreamed it could be. Dark and warm and holy, a rhythm like chanting, and somewhere a voice crying out. Wordless, yet entirely comprehensible if one knew how to listen. It was like dying.

Lex let everything else go. Let himself live and be loved. Let himself believe that Clark would still be here tomorrow with his smile and his open arms--with his beautiful mouth that could no longer lie, and all the secrets that had been spread before him like a sacrifice.

Somehow Lex would be worthy of all of it. All that trust and hope and honesty. Those hands and lips, that thing called love that spread over his body and leeched the darkness out like a poison. He would be a better man. He would be a better man because of Clark. Because Clark loved him. And he loved Clark.

Lex sighed as he felt himself wrapped against warm skin, carefully held as though he might break, as though he were already broken and needed to be healed. He breathed in sweat and spice and clean male skin.

"Go to sleep," Clark whispered. "You're not alone, Lex. You have all of me. Secrets and lies and truth. All of it."

A kiss against his naked head. A kiss because the walls had not only crumbled, but had been crushed into dust and tossed to the wind.

"I'll still be here in the morning."

Knowing it was true, Lex slept.

***

Lex caught the cell phone on the first ring. Clark didn't stir beside him on the bed. His dark hair was tousled, and Lex smiled as Clark's arm tightened reflexively around his waist.

"This is Lex," he said trying for a tone that was more casual than he felt.

"You sound better." It was Toby. There was a question in his tone.

"I feel better," Lex said softly, looking at Clark's sleeping face.

"I thought Clark might answer. Figured he'd be able to keep you away from your toys for the night."

"He's sleeping."

"I see." Lex could almost hear Toby's smirk through the phone.

"This wasn't sudden, Toby."

"I didn't say anything, Lex. I just hope you were careful."

"Toby, for Christ's sake, I'm not--"

"The stitches, Lex. I meant the stitches."

Lex swallowed his indignation quietly. Clark shifted beside him.

"The stitches are fine. Clark was a perfect gentleman." Lex looked over to see green eyes fixed on him with a note of concern. Lex gave him a lopsided smile and ran a hand through his hair. Clark grinned.

"'Bout time you met one of those. You've spent too much time with reprobates like Wayne and his cronies."

"Be nice."

"I sent you Clark, didn't I? All that talk about being alone and you really weren't, you know."

"I know."

"You just needed a nudge. Both of you."

"Thank you, Pandarus," Lex said rolling his eyes. Clark flashed a questioning look at him, but Lex shook his head. He'd explain Shakespeare's take on Greek and Roman history later.

"Should I even ask who's Troilus and who's Cressida?"

"I'd really prefer if you didn't."

Toby was feeling entirely too smug about this. He was usually a pain in the ass about bailing Lex out of life-or-death situations, but playing matchmaker had pushed him to an entirely new level of arrogance. He was going to be impossible to live with for the next little while. Maybe he could send him out of the country for a spell.

"Well, if you're sure you're alright."

"I'm fine, and Clark is going to change the bandages for me," Lex said, looking over as Clark nodded seriously and reached out a hand to touch his injured shoulder. Clark pressed a kiss against the bandage.

"Okay. You and the kid take care. I'll check back in a day or so. You know how to reach me."

"Thanks," Lex said casually, then took a breath and added, "Really. For everything."

He heard a faint chuckle just before he ended the call. He turned towards Clark.

"Just Toby checking up on me."

"That's kind of sweet, actually. I didn't know you'd known him so long."

"Since Excelsior. He saved my life. In a lot of ways."

"You do seem to need an awful lot of saving, Lex," Clark said with a smile and leaned in to kiss him softly. "I think somebody needs to keep you out of trouble."

"Volunteering?" Lex asked, enjoying the soft brush of Clark's lips on his skin. "It's a big job."

"I think I'm up for it," Clark said, catching Lex's eye. His cheeks blossomed a dark red. Lex laughed and wrapped his arms around him and kissed him affectionately. They spent the morning revelling in the newness of skin on skin, the comfort to be found in casual conversation, the simple act of unwrapping and re-wrapping bandages as a counterpoint to the differences between Chaucer and Shakespeare's visions of the Trojan war.

Clark pressed a small kiss to Lex's skin as he finished with the bandages.

"I know that look, Lex. You're plotting. What is it?" Clark said suspiciously, sitting beside him on the bed.

Lex grinned. "Do you think Toby would like a truck?"

Clark smiled and kissed him again, and Lex laughed breathlessly because this was all he'd ever wanted. This was his best friend and he loved him, and he would love him until his body turned cold and lifeless.

He finally understood that he didn't have to die to claim his place in heaven. It had always been right in front of him.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> This is a tad sentimental, but I like to think I've improved since then. (I honestly don't know what I was thinking by writing this sentence: "Clark knelt between his spread legs, and the hands on his thighs were the wings of angels beating before the fall." LOL.) Originally posted in 2004. 
> 
> Toby (who appears in SV "Stray") is the doctor at Excelsior Prep when Bruce and Wayne are growing up.
> 
>  _Shadows & Stone (overview):_ In this universe, Bruce Wayne, Lex Luthor, and Harry Osborn are classmates at Excelsior Prep, an exclusive all-boys boarding school in New England. The school accepts boys from Grade 5 to Grade 12, inclusive. Lex and Bruce start together in Grade 5, around the age of 9, and graduate together eight years later. Harry joins them in Grade 9, but leaves during his senior year to attend high school back in New York with his friend Peter Parker. In general, this universe follows Smallville as a baseline for time, so the meteor shower happened in 1989. Lex had just started attending school there that fall. Lex's mother dies in 1993 when he is 13 and in Grade 8.
> 
> Bruce, Lex, and Harry are all roughly the same age within a year. Clark Kent is roughly 5 years younger than Lex. Dick Grayson (Robin) is about 8 years younger than Bruce. Peter is about 2 years younger than Harry (accelerated student)
> 
>  _Shadows & Stone_ currently consists of four separate but related series:
> 
>  _Beginnings_ \- how the characters met or how they made important connections during the early years at Excelsior Prep (Lex, Bruce - ages 9 to 13)
> 
>  _Dark Spaces_ \- the teenage years at Excelsior Prep (Lex, Bruce, Harry Osborn - ages 13 to 19)
> 
>  _Smallville Stories_ \- Clark and Lex forge a friendship of legend in Smallville. Bruce and Lex have a complicated past. (Clark/Lex, Bruce - set within Smallville canon, AU after S2 "Heat")
> 
>  _The Future is Ours_ \- Clark Kent and Lex Luthor are all grown up and sharing a life in Metropolis. Clark has taken up the role of Superman (with guidance from Bruce Wayne) and has formed the JLA. Stories set after WiP "Six."
> 
>  _Six_ \- Work in Progress - Novel - The story begins at the elegant party being held in New York City for Excelsior Prep, whose illustrious alumni include Bruce Wayne, Lex Luthor, and Harry Osborn. But something goes terribly wrong and six of the world's most intriguing men disappear into thin air. (Clark/Lex, Bruce/Dick, Harry/Peter). AU blending with Spider-Man (film).


End file.
